Mock lion and real heroes; from Senegal, a lighthearted traditional game with serious undertones - High Days and Holidays

Mock lion and real heroes

From Senegal, a lighthearted traditional game with serious undertones

IN Africa collective celebrations have always been held to strengthen community spirit and group solidarity, as well as to break the monotony of everyday life. Most of these popular festivals have a significance which goes back to very early times.

Some festivals, like Senegal's bao-naan, a ritual dance calling for rain in drought-stricken times, pay tribute to a divinity and appeal for his good offices. Others celebrate the birth of a child, an abundant harvest or some other happy event. Festive occasions such as light-hearted wrestling matches between champions from different villages simply offer an opportunity for displays of strength and agility. But all the festivals uphold threatened values such as generosity, a sense of honour and dignity, and courage in the face of adversity, and although during them things sometimes seem to take a violent turn, universally accepted rules are always respected.

All these features are combined in the game of the mock lion, known in Senegal as Simb. I saw this game when I was young, and my memory of it is still undimmed.

The whole district was in festive mood. A dense and colourfully dressed crowd jostled around the platform of honour on which the notables had taken their places. The oldest people had brought makeshift seats since they could not stand up for long. Each spectator flourished on his forearm a piece of cotton thread studded with knots died red with cola. This thread, which was sold by teenage volunteers, was the entrance ticket to the show and afforded protection against the lion's fury. Woe betide those who had no piece of thread!

All around tom-toms were beating time while women danced. The nearby streets pulsated with activity. Vendors of water, soft drinks and coconuts pushed their way through the crowd. On each side of the main street, lines of headscarves and loincloths fluttered in the wind. Beneath them were teenage girls wearing their finest boubous, and decked out with jewels sparkling in the sun. No one was allowed to cross these lines without paying a kind of forfeit, the lo-lambe. (1) The smallest coin conferred the right to put one's hand on the intimate parts of the women who were taking the money. No one took offence. That was how it had always been.

Six o'clock in the evening. Suddenly there was an indescribable commotion, punctuated with wild applause. Preceded by an imposing escort, the mock lion entered the arena. He was unrecognizable as a man. He wore a wig with a mane attached to it. His face was covered with black soot, his eyes adorned with ochre powder. Everything about him gave the impression of a wild beast, of the king of the forest, symbol of strength and courage. From time to time he opened his mouth wide and slobbered a whitish liquid. Then he began to roar, looking nastily at the crowd. His legs were ringed with jangling amulets and knickknacks. He was a fearful sight.

Feigning panic, a lion-tamer hurled himself before the "lion", brandished a long piece of cotton thread and loudly recited an incantatory prayer: "Daar Nde Gainde Ndiaye. Daru mala Yala la dar. Ku Yala dar nga daru."(2) Seemingly hypnotized by these words, the beast crouched down and pretended to sleep. During this brief moment of respite, the crowd applauded rapturously, not forgetting in their excitement to brandish their protective threads to extinguish the man-animal's murderous intentions.

This was the moment when a group of barechester youths rashly pulled the piece of cloth which served as the mock lion's tail. Some threw stones at him or chewed and snapped old bones. In unison the spectators sang out the ritual warning cry: "Det! Way det! Gainde bagne na Kuy dam yax."(3) Then the lion roared louder than ever and set off in hot pursuit of those who had provoked him. There was pandemonium as the animal engaged in a flurry of biting and boubou-ripping. He knocked one spectator down. The tamer ran along behind, reciting prayers to get the victims out of their predicament. What madness! What a release!

Suddenly the mock lion changed direction and advanced rapidly towards the platform of honour, sowing panic among the tiny tots hiding beneath their parents' clothes. He went up to a special guest, who wondered for an instant whether this could really be happening to him, and discreetly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away a bead of sweat. Everyone was shouting. The man-animal fixed his eyes on another guest, whose lips began to tremble--the poor man had no cotton thread. An irresistible opportunity! The "wild animal" leapt on the guilty spectator like an eagle on its prey, pinned him to the ground with a smart blow from a paw, and then let fly with his fists. By the time the tamer had managed to cool the lion's ardour by uttering incantatory prayers which were drowned in the general hullaballoo, the poor victim was lying on the ground, his face covered with blood. He was taken away after someone had lent him a cotton thread. The festival went on at full tilt until sunset.

That night everyone had something to talk about. The mock lion was a hero. He had displayed energy and perseverance in pursuing and punishing those who had disobeyed the law of the community. The teenagers who had shown their mettle by provoking the wild beast and then standing up to him were heroes too. Their appetites for excitement satisfied, people went to sleep thinking of the children of the forest, past and present, who had stood their ground before the king of animals. In an afternoon of festivity, man had rediscovered his pride.

PHOTO : The Game of Simb (1989), by the Senegalese artist Ousseynou Sarr.

PHOTO : Simb the mock lion, Dakar. (1) A Wolof word meaning: "How much do you touch with?" or more precisely: "How much do you give to have the right to touch?" (2) "It is not I who tame you, but Allah. When He tames you, you must obey." (Wolof) (3) From the Wolof: "No, no, the lion hates it when people break a bone!"

COPYRIGHT 1989 UNESCO
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